


I'll Wait Forever, That's What We Said

by crispmarshmallow



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU - Rhaegar Wins, Aegon is way too precious for this world, Alys needs a ton of hugs (of which a large number are hopefully from Aegon), Alysanne Targaryen - Freeform, Barristan & Arthur did not sign up for all this drama, Dany is enjoying this drama a little too much, Elia is a badass Queen, Even Cersei ships it, F/M, Fem!Jon Snow, Gen, Littlefinger sucks, Lyanna Dies, NOT ANTI-ELIA OR DORNE, Oberyn and Jaime spend way too much time shipping Alys & Aegon, Rhaegar is seriously trying his best, Rhaenys knows what's up, angst & fluff, kinda slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24423208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crispmarshmallow/pseuds/crispmarshmallow
Summary: The North fortifies its borders as ambition plagues the South and threats rise in the East. Tensions run high, and King Rhaegar struggles to keep the Seven Kingdoms together.He plans alliances and brings his daughter back from the North. Princess Alysanne returns to Kingslanding - where Kings rule, dragons prowl and princes and princesses fall for the forbidden.‘DISCONTINUED’
Relationships: Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Elia Martell/Rhaegar Targaryen, Jon Snow/Aegon VI Targaryen, Rhaegar Targaryen/Lyanna Stark (mentioned), Robb Stark/Jon Snow (minor)
Comments: 161
Kudos: 451





	1. whispers brought you here

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the rewrite of 'I Want No Crown, No Kingdom (If I Can Not Have You, Your Heart)'.

"The King requests that you return to the Red Keep."

Uncle Ned begins without preamble when he barges into her chambers. Startled, Alys stops running her fingers through Ghost's fur. She stares at the direwolf in her lap for a moment before looking up to meet her Uncle's eyes. She knows the anger in them is not meant for her, but they unsettle her.

Many make the mistake of underestimating Ned Stark for they say the wolf's blood within is dormant. Though the Realm has not forgotten the failed Robert's Rebellion, they have forgotten that he was one of the first to raise his armies against the Targaryens. If Brandon and Lyanna Stark were the fierce blizzards in Winter, Ned Stark is Winter itself - cold and unforgiving. 

Alys spies a scroll in his hand, complete with the King's seal. She tries to open her mouth to say something and closes it when she finds that she can not form any words. She has not set foot below the Neck since her Uncle brought her up North by the command of the King. Nonetheless, she keeps herself informed of the words and the whispers that transpire in the Seven Kingdoms. She does not like surprises, and she wants to be prepared if her lineage brings trouble into her home.

It is what baffles her. It is known that she is not loved in the rest of the Realm as she in the North. King Rhaegar has been content to keep her in Winterfell. He sent his letters and gifts, but it has been years since Alys has deigned to reply to any of them. Her distaste for the Targaryens is hardly a secret. 

She does not like surprises, and this is the largest of them all. Why did the King suddenly _demand_ her presence after seventeen years? In the Red Keep that he knows she hates? With the Queen that is not her mother? 

Alys has never thought the King to be cruel. Thoughtless? Indifferent? Foolish? Yes, but never cruel. By all accounts, he has been a gracious ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. She supposes she was wrong. Why else would he drag her from her home? Unless -

"Is it because of the Moat?"

Uncle Ned lets out a tired sigh and perches himself beside her on the bed. Ghost looks up and nuzzles his snout into his arm. Ruffling his white fur, he answers, "It could be, though one would think he would have acted years ago in response."

The King would have certainly liked to, Alys thinks, he had simply been in no position to deny Ned's request to restore Moat Cailin at the close of the Rebellion. 

"When?" 

Uncle Ned wraps an arm over her shoulder, and she rests her head on his. She briefly wonders for how much longer she will be able to do so. 

"The King rides for Winterfell as we speak." Alys' feels her stomach drop, it does so even further when she hears the next words, "The Queen and her children accompany him." She has no memory of Rhaegar Targaryen, but he has maintained correspondence with her. On the other hand, his wife and children have never made an effort to reach out to her. She dreads the fact that she will meet them in less than a moon's turn.

Ghost, sensing her discomfort, buries his snout in her stomach. She wonders if the King will permit her to bring her direwolf with her to Kingslanding. 

"You are to return with them." Uncle Ned finishes unnecessarily. 

Years ago, when Arya had begun rebelling against Aunt Catelyn's efforts to turn her into a proper Southern Lady, Uncle Ned had taken his children aside, placing Arya on his lap. He had looked at each of them in the eyes and taught them an important lesson that night.

_Pick your battles wisely, my children._

Those words may have been rendered fruitless when it came to Arya, but Alys had taken it to heart as she did all of her Uncle's teaching.

Ned Stark is Warden of the North, and she, a Princess of the Realm. But they are no Kings, and to resist the orders of one would be futile. She does not protest as Arya or even her mother, Lyanna Stark would have. Instead, she nods, this is not a battle that can be won.

* * *

She determinedly keeps her eyes trained on the Stark banners that flank the entrance to the courtyard as the King and his entourage arrives. She knows that their meeting is inevitable, but she will avoid it for as long as possible. She can hear her cousins whispering in excitement as the Targaryen party floods the courtyard - Arya and Bran gush over Arthur Dayne's appearance and Sansa fawns over the Crown Prince. She ignores them, continuing her mission. The moment Robb's hand engulf hers, Alys knows that the King has made his appearance. She squeezes his hand, trying to convey that she is alright. 

She falls on her knees with the rest of the inhabitants of Winterfell. She can hear the soil crunch under the King's boots as he approaches them, and with each step, she can feel her heart hammering against her chest. He stops before her Uncle, and after a moment of looking down at them, he gestures for them to get up.

Uncle Ned rises first, and then they follow.

For the first time that Alys can remember her eyes fall on the King. Though it has been years since she has wished to see the man, she finds that she can not look away. She has learned that the whispers carried to the North by the wind are rarely wrong; the sight before her is a testament to that.

Rhaegar Targaryen looks every bit of the wise and powerful King that they say he is. He does not need the golden crown on his head to look kingly. He is lean, but one could see that he possesses the body of a well-trained warrior. The royal ensemble is complete with his majestic silver hair that flows down to his shoulder and his striking Targaryen lilac eyes. 

Not to Alys' surprise, those eyes do not seek the daughter that they have not seen in over a decade. They are fixed on her Uncle, who stands beside her - tense and cold.

The Lord Of Winterfell does not move to fill the silence that has filled the yard, and the King does not seem to mind. He decides to do it himself.

"Lord Stark." There is warmth in his words, that is something Alys had not expected. Is it out of affection, affection that she knows is not returned, or a facade that he wears? She can not tell.

Uncle Ned bows his head respectfully, "Your Grace, Winterfell is yours." The King smiles in response, it is a stark contrast from the expression her Uncle wears, one that is carved from stone.

That does not perturb the King, his eyes wander the crowd before him. "Tell me, how long has it been?"

"Seventeen years."

King Rhaegar's eyes return to Ned's, lingering there for a second. "Seventeen years." He echoes, as those haunting eyes finally fall on Alys.

She does not know the King well enough to decipher the look in his eyes. On anyone else, she would say that it is warmth, fondness or even love, but the King is not anyone else, so she will not say so. She stays frozen as he drinks in the sight of his youngest daughter.

"Alysanne." Her name is carried throughout the courtyard, even though it is little more than a whisper. Alys does not remember the last time anyone has addressed her by 'Alysanne' that it feels weird to be addressed so. Robb's finger brushes over hers, breaking her out of the reverie that she had fallen into.

She plants a smile on her face, one that her Aunt had taught her. It has been years since the Lady of Winterfell has step foot in the South herself, but she was raised there, and thus, far from ignorant of their ways.

_Smile, Alys. Weakness has no place in the South. Smile, so they do not see your pain._

So she wears that smile as she bends into a curtsey, as the King envelopes in a hug. She smiles as she pretends that furs tickling her cheek are that of her Uncle's. She smiles even when there is little that she would not give to banish Rhaegar Targaryen from her home. 

"We will have time to catch up later, my dear." He says as he lets go of her, squeezing her shoulder.

"As your grace wishes." She pretends not to notice the way the King's smile droops at her formal tone. She pretends not to notice the way her stomach twists with guilt as the King makes his way to greet the other Starks.

Elia Martell approaches her next, after receiving a kiss on the hand from Uncle Ned and a peck on the cheek from Aunt Catelyn. Queen Elia is a beautiful woman, her long dark curls travel down the back of her crimson gown, and her chocolate-brown eyes study her - calculating, but not cold as Alys had expected.

"You do not look unlike your mother, Princess." At the mention of Lyanna Stark, Ned and Robb freeze on either side of Alys. She does not know if the Queen means those words as an insult or simply an observation. Nonetheless, she takes it as the former, even though she is not wrong. Alys has inherited the Stark colouring and eyes. She does not flinch under the scrutiny. Rhaegar Targaryen is one thing, Elia Martell another.

"You would not be the first to say so, my Queen." 

Something flashes in Elia's eyes as those words leave her mouth. It looked like something akin to approval. Alys brushes away the thought as Elia offers one last smile before moving on. The King and Queen move to leave and follow Lady and Lord Stark to the chambers prepared for them. At last, Alys lets her eyes roam the courtyard.

She catches sight of a few of the Kingsguard - Ser Arthur Dayne with Dawn strapped to his waist and Ser Jaime Lannister in all his golden glory. She sees the Princess Rhaenys, stunning as her mother, making her way to follow her parents. The Princess glances at her, regarding her with curiosity, but with no animosity that Alys can discern.

Next, her eyes fall on the Crown Prince, Aegon Targaryen. Where Rhaenys has inherited Rhaegar's elegant Valyrian looks, Aegon has inherited the Queen's striking Dornish looks - save for the Targaryen eyes. Nonetheless, he is as beautiful as his father, and if Alys is being honest with herself, even more so. Aegon appears to be studying Alys himself, much like his sister had been. There is a dangerous glint in his eyes, though he somehow appears boyish at the same time.

Alys does not know if Elia and her children dislike her as the Dornish do. Why wouldn't they? She refuses to be the one that looks away first. She was raised amongst wolves, and would not be intimidated by dragons. 

She feels a tingling of warmth near her ear, and Aegon's lilac eyes stray to a point over her shoulder. She looks over her shoulder, only for her nose to brush Robb's, as he had been leaning over to whisper in her ear. Although she had been staring down the brother she has never known a moment ago, she giggles as Robb withdraws his face, a grin working its way onto it.

"Would the Princess like to accompany me to see the wolves?"

Alys feels the coolness that she had been experiencing the whole morning be replaced with warmth. She places her hand in the one Robb has offered. She stares at their joined limbs for a moment before answering, "The Princess would love to, my lord."

Arya appears between them, almost jumping with excitement, "I want to come." Alys and Robb share an amused glance before the latter stretches out his other hand to his younger sister.

"We would be honoured if the Lady Arya would join us." 

Arya glares at Robb as she accepts his offer, "I'm not a lady." Robb grins, and though she must have certainly like to, Arya says no more. She grabs Bran's arm, who appears eager to join, and he, in turn, takes little Rickon's hand too. 

Alys glances at Sansa who has been watching them almost wistfully. Sansa has always been something of the black sheep in the family, though Arya would vehemently disagree. She has too much of the South in her as Alys has too much of the North. Alys has never shared Arya's rivalry with the eldest Stark sister. She feels a certain kinship to Sansa. 

She extends her hand, "And the Lady Sansa? Would you like to accompany us?"

To Alys' glee, Sansa readily accepts with a wide, but shy, smile. "It would be an honour, Princess Alys." 

The Starks move across the courtyard as a chain and are quickly joined by Theon. It reminds Alys of her childhood within the walls of Winterfell. Them and the Kracken running around, unleashing chaos. 

She looks over her shoulder and finds that Aegon Targaryen and the rest are nowhere in sight. However, their presence within the Castle is hard to miss with the Targaryen banners and men littering the yard. She feels Sansa squeeze her hand, and Alys whips her head towards her.

"Would you let me do your hair tonight, Alys?" She agrees without much thought for she loves the way Sansa intricately does her hair. They launch into a discussion on what ways they'd prefer to do their hair for the feast. Arya and the rest roll their eyes at them, but Alys ignores them.

Sansa can be as thoughtless as Alys thinks the King, but she is just a girl with her head stuck in the clouds. Alys does not begrudge her of that. Sansa can be thoughtless, but this is not one of those times. Alys is certain Sansa knows what she is doing by capturing her attention.

Slowly, thoughts of the Targaryens leave her head, to be replaced with that of Sansa's musing, the younger Starks arguing over which Kingsguard is the best, an argument Theon sees fit to join in; and her hand within Robb's.

Her thoughts are filled with home.


	2. what we leave behind and what we don't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Princess Alysanne makes acquaintances and bids farewell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who would have thought that I would complete this chapter? Not me! I thought of waiting a few days before posting it, but then decided not keep y'all waiting!

The King does not get his chance to converse with Alys. She does not give him the chance. During the welcoming feast, she retires for the night after a single dance with Robb. She takes care to wake up with the Sun to break her fast in the kitchens. Her cousins, without her even asking, help her avoid the Targaryens and their men. 

That does not mean she does not see them. She is forced to sit in sessions of embroidering with the Queen and Princess Rhaenys. She does her best to ignore them, studiously listening to Arya rant on about Septa Mordane. She leaves Sansa to entertaining them. She sees the King at the feasts and striding down the corridors with her Uncle. She enlists Jory's help to be aware of their agenda for the day. She catches glimpses of Prince Aegon sparring with Robb or the Kingsguard. Ordinarily, she would watch, but she takes care to vacant the area whenever they decide to spar. 

She knows her efforts are for nothing. She is accompanying the Royal Family back to their home. Eventually, she will have to face them, but Alys has learned that sometimes it is better to avoid the truth.

* * *

"They're getting so big." Alys watches Ghost and Nymeria run around the clearing that she and Arya have escaped to. It is a little place not far from Winterfell that her Uncle allows them to visit with their wolves. Arya shoots an arrow that hits the mark of the target they created. 

Alys laughs, "You can get no better than that." Arya grins at her, obviously pleased with the praise. She passes the bow to Alys and picks up the ball that Ghost and Nymeria are fighting for. The wolves come padding to her feet, waiting for her toss it. 

"Do you think Father will let me come here once you leave?" Arya asks as she tosses the ball. Alys feels her stomach drop at the reminder. She knows Arya is almost as worried about her departure as Alys is. She considers Alys to be her sole ally in the world and to lose her must be frightening. 

"I'm sure he will if you can get Robb to come with you." She decides to speak to him about it. Arya does not think anything will come out for she sighs in resignation. Alys knows that Arya will try to sneak out, but she does not say anything. She will make sure that Robb keeps his eye on her. 

Alys grabs an arrow and lifts the bow, aiming for the goal. Archery is something that, like Arya, she is skilled in. The two of them have perfected the art by watching Robb and Theon. She releases her fingers, and the arrow strikes the center. Arya whoops and Alys feels the satisfaction coarse through her. She goes to grab another when Ghost and Nymeria whip their heads to the right. Alys readies the bow and follows their gazes, ready to defend themselves if it comes to that. 

Her arms drop as she recognizes the intruders - Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon. Alys hears Arya groan from behind her, and she can not help but agree with her.

"Alysanne." Rhaenys greets her while Aegon smiles at them, not unkindly, "Lady Arya." Alys watches helplessly as Rhaenys approaches her cousin, bending by her feet to pick up the ball that has been left ideal with their appearance. "Would you mind if I had a go?" She gestures to the wolves. Arya glances at Alys questioningly, and she shrugs. She has no grounds to refuse. 

Alys looks on as the Princess throws the ball, and after a moment of hesitation, Ghost and Nymeria run after it. "I heard your wolf is named Nymeria, after the Dornish Queen." Arya has no love for the Targaryens, but she can not resist speaking of Nymeria - the wolf and the Queen. Alys stares at the pair as Arya launches into an explanation and Rhaenys listens with rapt attention. 

Alys does not know how to feel with her cousin and sister conversing, so she turns to her brother, Aegon. She stares at his handsome face that watches Arya speak so passionately. Sensing her gaze on him, he whips his head towards her and smiles. He is so free with his smiles, it almost endears him to her.

"How did you find us?"

"Rhaenys and I decided we needed some air," Aegon gestures at Ghost and Nymeria, "It is hard to miss two direwolves." Alys supposes that makes sense. She glances at the sword that hangs on his waist.

"You ventured out of Winterfell without the Kingsguard." Not exactly a wise move for a Targaryen Prince. Aegon must hear read her thoughts for his smile widens.

He leans towards her, "It appears you have, Princess."

"It is less likely that a disgruntled Northerner decides to punch," She points at his heart, "a hole through my chest with his arrow." Aegon's smile is no longer a smile, he is grinning, his eyes twinkling with amusement, and nods at the bow in her hand.

"Should I be worried?" _Maybe._ Alys feels the corners of her lips twitch upwards. Perhaps, her efforts to avoid him and his family have not gone unnoticed. She turns her head to hide the smile that threatens to appear on her face.

"Of course not, Your Highness." Aegon raises an eyebrow at her, and Alys suppresses a chuckle. He turns on his heels, pointing to the distance.

"If you must know, Arthur is watching us from amongst those trees." Alys looks over her shoulder, and indeed, finds the Sword of the Morning looking back at them. He inclines his head when her eyes meet his.

She looks away and says for lack of anything better, "Good." Aegon chuckles, and Alys looks at him baffled through the corners of her eyes. This is the longest she has stood in his company, and he is yet to insult her. She bits her lip, wondering if she has judged siblings too harshly. 

"They say Lyanna Stark was a lot like you." Alys freezes the moment those words leave Rhaenys' mouth. She knows that the words are not meant for, but for Arya. Alys might be Lyanna's daughter, but by all accounts, it is Arya who has inherited her wild spirit. She sees Arya's eyes narrow suspiciously at the Princess, at the same time, Nymeria looks up, baring her teeth at Rhaenys.

She sees Aegon's hand gripe the hilt of his sword, and Rhaenys take a hesitant step back. Ghost jumps forward, and Aegon unsheathes his weapon. Alys places a hand on his arm to stop him from acting preemptively. Ghost means no harm to Rhaenys, he, instead, tackles down Nymeria. Aegon and Rhaenys relax and Alys takes hold of Arya's hand.

"Lord Stark will be expecting us soon, Your Highnesses. Arya and I should head back." She can hear Arthur Dayne approaching them, and she begins to herd Arya and the wolves away from them.

"I did not mean it as an insult." She hears Rhaenys say from behind her. She turns around to meet her eyes, which look genuine. Alys nods, her stomach curdling with discomfort. She supposes she might be telling the truth. "I was simply curious." She does not blame her for being so. She wonders if Rhaenys' opinion of Lyanna Stark has changed after her meeting Arya, or what her opinion of her had been. Her grip tightens on her cousin's shoulder.

* * *

Alys can not stop the inevitable. She watches helplessly as her handmaidens pack her trunks to the point where her rooms contain the bare minimum by the day before her departure. She spends her morning watching Mikken work on Arya's present for she can not stand the sight of her rooms anymore, and though she has been spending as much time as she can with her cousins, she decides she needs some time to herself.

"A sword for the Princess?" Alys jumps at the voice, and looks over her shoulder to find Ser Jaime Lannister approaching. He is not wearing his white cloak, but he looks no less magnificent. She can see why they call him the 'Golden Lion', though she knows they whisper 'Kingslayer' behind his back. 

She shakes her head, "I have no use for a sword." She will be guarded by his and his brothers' swords from now on. Ser Jaime steps forward, joining her in front of Mikken's forge. She glares at him in annoyance, she wants to be alone. 

"I suppose not." He ignores her, but agrees, "Do you want one?" Alys stares at him, Jaime Lannister is a Southern knight and in the South, a woman with a weapon is considered unseemly.

"I don't how know to use one." She has never tried sword-fighting, always has been satisfied with her bow and arrow. Ser Jaime brushes his shiny hair out of his eyes, flashing a grin at her that makes Alys blush. Jaime Lannister's smirk annoys Alys, but he is pretty to look at.

"A pity." She feels irritation flare within once more. Did everyone expect her to be the come again of Lyanna Stark?

They stand in silence as Mikken applies the finishing touches to Arya's sword. Alys wonders if this is what having a Kingsguard is going to be like. Mikken hands over the weapon to her once he is finished, and Alys tests the grip. She holds it up while facing Ser Jaime, trying to elicit an opinion from him. He is one of the best sword-fighters in the Realm, after all.

"Little Lady Arya is sure to love it." Alys grins at that. Arya's aversion to ladylike behaviour is no secret and the fact that Ser Jaime guessed it so easily is proof of that. She decides she does not mind the Lannister much as his smirk grows softer, into something reminiscent of a smile.

* * *

She excuses herself early from the last feast she would have at Winterfell in the foreseeable future. She spends the rest of the evening strolling through the godswood with Robb, reminiscing their childhood together. She dreads the moment she will have to call it a night, and when she does, it feels as though her whole world is collapsing onto her.

"Good night, Alys," Robb says as he stands outside her bare chambers. It sounds like 'goodbye', maybe because it almost is. He looks so sad and she looks down at their joined hands. She runs her thumb over his skin, her heart thumping in her chest. She does not know when she will see Robb again after tomorrow, so she gathers him into a fierce hug. Robb wraps his arms tightly around her. Alys rests her face on his shoulder, her gaze resting on his face. He smells of spice and the wine he drank at the feast.

"I'm going to miss you." She whispers. 

Robb hums into her hair, "Me too." 

Alys pulls away, watching him closely. She doesn't know who makes the first move, but she knows that it hardly matters who did as their lips brush against each other.

* * *

Alys has never had to bid farewell before, not in a lasting sense at least. She finds that she does not know what to do when she is faced in such a situation as this. Luckily, Uncle Ned has plenty of experience. He envelopes her in a hug, pressing a chaste kiss on her forehead. 

"Take care, my child." He says before whispering, "The North stands with you." She buries her face into his furs as she nods. She tries to stop the tears from coming to no avail. 

Aunt Catelyn straightens her dress before pressing a kiss to her cheek. Little Rickon clings onto her legs as she hugs Bran, forcing Lady Stark to pick him up and usher him out of the courtyard, but not before Alys pecks him on the cheek, whispering, "I'll miss you, little wolf." Sansa hugs rather fiercely for a gentle girl. She doesn't cry though, ever the perfect lady in Royal company. 

Arya tackles her into a hug, refusing to let go while whispering 'Don't go. Don't go.' Alys can find no words to comfort her for she must go with the King. Uncle Ned pulls her off her, and she turns to Robb. Her eldest cousin gathers her into a hug, holding her so tightly that she can't help but think about the night before. She tries to banish the moment from her mind, but Robb doesn't make it any easier.

"I could marry you." He whispers in her ear, "They can't take you away from your husband." Alys hides her tears in Robb's cloak. It is a wonderful fantasy. She would never have to leave the North with the King. She would be Lady of Winterfell one day with Robb by her side. She is tempted to say yes, but she knows what happens if she does. The King is not taking her away because he has missed her. No, she is a hostage to keep her Uncle in check. If it is not her, it will be Arya or Sansa in the Red Keep.

She doesn't say anything as she pulls away. She wipes her face, turns around on her feet, and moves to join the family that she does not love.  



	3. the road to where we began

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alys learns her history and finds that there is much more to learn.

Alys refuses to ride in the wheelhouse along with Queen Elia and Princess Rhaenys. Both of them have been nothing but kind to her so far, but she does not think she would be able to bear to sit with them for the travel to Kingslanding. She feels as though she is sparing the Queen and her daughter of her presence.

Instead, she rides on her horse that had been a gift from Roose Bolton on her last nameday. Ghost pads down the Kingsroad by her side, his being there gives Alys some sense of comfort. He is familiar amongst the unfamiliarity around her. She spends most of her time, despite her greatest efforts, thinking of Winterfell. Her Uncle. Her cousins. Arya. Robb. Their names make her heart clench. Robb's feels like a knife in it.

She wonders what would have happened had she accepted his offer. The life she imagines where she had, is as beautiful as she had hoped. She and Robb would wed in the godswood, before the old gods. One day, they would be Lady and Lord of Winterfell, ruling just and fair. They would have children. Little Lyanna after her grandmother, and Jon, an heir for the North. She knows thinking about it will put her in more pain than she needs to be in, but she can not help herself. She wonders if she should have let Sansa take her place. After all, she did want to see the South and live in the Red Keep.

Expectantly, this puts her in a dark mood that fends off anyone that dares approach her. She has no desire to speak to anyone. She can not find it in herself to do so. They will whisper that she is as cold as the Winter that House Stark always speaks of. What is one more moniker for the Princess Alysanne? What is the 'Ice Princess' compared to 'Bastard Princess' or 'King's Bastard'? 

She pretends that it does not bother her. It does, for she is not cold or aloof. In Winterfell, she had been all smiles and laughs. But she is not in Winterfell anymore, and it is as though the South has melted them away. 

It is at a stop on the Trident does anyone gather the courage to speak to her. Ser Arthur Dayne informs her of the King's invitation to have tea with him. She has been taught better than to refuse a King's direct request.

Alys finds the location to be a poor choice. She is almost sure that the King thinks so too, for he has a sad and melancholic look in his violet eyes. Then again, she has heard that the look never leaves. As much as the Northerners like to jest that Ned Stark's silent nature had been passed on to Alys, from the way the King does not use words freely, she assumes there is more than that.

Apart from the quick embrace they shared, he and Alys sit across from each other, sipping their tea. Truthfully, she does not mind the silence. She revels in it, enjoying the beauty of the Riverlands' fields. Lady Catelyn had bemoaned its absence in the North, honestly, Alys can see why. 

Slowly, the quiet between herself and the King becomes unbearable for he begins to study her face, looking as though he wishes to say something, unsure if he should. Alys thinks he shouldn't, but sooner or later he will. So, she beats him to it.

"You fought Robert Baratheon here?" She inwardly winces at her topic of choice. Nonetheless, she settles for it. She worries that the King will prod at the fresh wound caused by her departure from her home. She does not want him to know how deeply it has affected her. On the other hand, she is curious. Uncle Ned rarely spoke of the Rebellion. Understandably so.

King Rhaegar is taken aback from the question. She even sees Dayne glance at her from his position behind the King. She is aware that the Rebellion is still a sensitive topic in the Kingdoms. Rhaegar sits forward as he nods, pushing his silver hair out of his eyes.

"I did. He was a fierce fighter." Despite the Loyalists' victory, there are few that refute the claim.

"You won. You let him live." Dayne shifts by his side, and Alys feels the air grow tense. King Rhaegar's eyes are filled with something else other than melancholy now. He studies her, searching for something. 

"Yes. I needed what was left of the rebels to take down my father." Alys fights not to squirm under the intense scrutiny of those unsettling eyes. Rhaegar does not appear angry, not even annoyed. He looks calculating for a reason Alys can not surmise.

"You had an army." One that had been loyal to him. One that won the war for him.

"An army loyal to House Targaryen. I was not Head of our House." He explains. He does so almost darkly. She wonders if the King is still haunted by his father's sins. She has her problems with him, but she pities him for having Aerys II as his father. She pities herself for having him as a grandfather. "I could not count on their support except on that of the Martells." Not even them. They would have likely been happier to rid the Realm of Rhaegar, after the betrayal he had dealt to Elia and placing Aegon directly on the Iron Throne. "Taking Robert Baratheon's life would not have endeared me to Jon Arryn or Ned Stark." Not that not doing so endeared him to them. Defeated and having had families to return to, they joined him to take down Aerys. It had not been difficult for the Lannisters pitched in, and Ser Jaime slew him.

Alys can not stop herself from pursuing it further, she is so engrossed in the walk through history. "How did he escape?"

Rhaegar shrugs as if it did not bother him, "I suspect he promised a man of mine a coin or two." She stops herself from asking if they found the man that had let out the leader of the Rebellion that almost toppled their reign. She knows that if they had, it would not have ended well for him. 

"He's in Essos." He continues, his gaze not leaving her face. Her eyes widen at the information, she had not known that. "He joined the Golden Company and rose amongst its ranks." 

That is a troubling thought. She can read between those lines. Robert Baratheon means to return to Westeros. The King confirms her suspicions. Alys ponders on what could Baratheon possibly gain by bringing war to their shores after so long. He fought for Lyanna Stark. Lyanna Stark is dead and has been for some time. Alys is all that is left of her.

The King falls back into his chair, meeting eyes with Dayne for a moment before turning back to her. Gone is the calculating spark in his eyes. She can detect a hint of contentment, coupled with a small smile on his lips. Alys believes he looks happier, for lack of a better word when he looks like that. She wonders if her mother had fallen for him like this. Or had he once been able to smile and laugh freely?

She shakes off those thoughts. She does not want to know. She turns back to her tea, swirling its contents before downing the entire thing. She feels herself squirm in discomfort at the soft look in the King's eyes. She would rather face the silence or his scrutiny. So she abruptly rises from her seat, quickly straightening her skirts. She bows to the King, careful not to meet his eyes. "If you would excuse me, your Grace," Alys asks, "but I think I should go check on Ghost." 

She waits for him to wave her away, and she turns on her heel. She ignores the feeling of his gaze on her. Instead, she concentrates on Ser Jaime's steps behind her. They are calculated, not too close and not too far. But a constant reminder of their presence and Alys feels distinctly uncomfortable with that.

"Do you not speak at all, Ser?" She can not help herself from asking.

She looks over her shoulder to find him looking at her, mildly surprised. "If you wish me to, Princess." 

She shifts nervously, "It's just the silence can be unsettling." She wishes she didn't find it so. It feels like weakness, and she remembers vividly what Lady Stark had said.

"I'm afraid you will have to get used to it." Jaime smirks obnoxiously, "My brothers are not gifted conversationalists as I." Alys has to restrain herself from rolling her eyes.

_Nevermind._

Once she reaches the outside of the inn in which they would be having lunch, she stops there, uncertain. She actually has no intention of seeking out Ghost because she has let him out to enjoy the wilderness for as long as they are at the Trident, but looking at the clusters of Targaryen men and women, she considers keeping good on her word to the King. 

Alys' eyes bounce from one person to the next. Her stomach twists at the realization she doesn't know any of them. The fact that she is truly alone sinks in. She catches sight of her siblings talking. Princess Rhaenys is perched on a trunk that is left lying around while Prince Aegon is leaning on his sword. They are laughing and Alys feels her heartache, she wants her cousins back.

Sensing her gaze, the two of them whip their heads in her direction. Her eyes meet theirs. Aegon has a kind smile on his face, and Rhaenys regards her with the curiosity that is ever-present when she studies Alys. She freezes for a moment before turning around, startling Jaime. 

"Have you got the chance to meet Ghost, Ser Jaime?"

* * *

The Red Keep is breathtaking as the songs say it is. It is the very embodiment of majesty and it is massive, though not as massive as Winterfell. Sadly, the city in which the castle is located in is a stark contrast to it. Kingslanding is riddled with poverty and hunger that it makes her heart twinge with guilt. Here she is moping on about having to live in the Red Keep, and a half of her subjects do not have food on the table. 

Their arrival is greeted with much fanfare. The smallfolk cheer the moment they catch sight of Aegon and Rhaenys, and they grow even louder when the King and Queen make their appearance. It is so different from what they got in the North. Here they are loved and respected. 

The most Alys gets is hushed whispers and curious stares.

* * *

Alys' quarters are set up in Maidenvault, not far from Princess Rhaenys'. Her chambers are decorated in red of House Targaryen and, to her surprise, the grey of House Stark. She had felt awfully touched when she had first noticed it. She is given full reign on how she wants to organize her rooms and Alys uses that to her full advantage - she tries to make it look more like home and she uses it as an excuse not to venture outside of them.

She is applying the final touches to her room when she hears a knock on her doors. She quickly tries to remember if she is supposed to meet anyone for the day as she puts down the ornament she had been holding - a wooden shield with the laughing face of a weirwood. It had been a gift from her Uncle on her tenth nameday. 

She can not fathom who is at the door for, since her arrival, most have left her to her own devices. King Rhaegar is too busy with the affairs of the Realm after his absence to visit her. Not that she wants him to. On the other hand, she is hardly surprised that the Queen and her children have not sought her out. So when she opens her doors, she is surprised to find Ashara Dayne, Queen Elia's lady-in-waiting, standing outside of them. 

Alys knows little about the famed Dornish beauty. She has heard that the lady is the most beautiful woman in the Realm - and she can not deny those claims for Lady Dayne, with her beautiful black curls that gracefully fall over her tanned shoulders and her violet eyes that seem to know every secret Alys could hold, is indeed a beauty. That is not all that she has heard of her though. 

In Winterfell, there had been whispers of their lord loving another before he wedded their lady out of necessity. Those whispers said that it wasn't just the Lady Lyanna and Prince Rhaegar that had fallen in love at the Tourney of Harrenhal. Lord Stark had never deigned to either confirm or deny the rumours. Theon says Lady Stark demanded an explanation and that was the first and last time that Ned Stark spoke so coldly to his wife. Was it because she revived memories he had buried deep within or because she had lowered herself into believing gossip? They never found out.

"Princess Alysanne." 

Alys plants a pleasant smile, "Lady Ashara. How may I help you?"

"I was hoping if I could come in?" Alys studies Lady Ashara for a moment. She wears a polite smile as she speaks to Alys, but, like every other person in the capital, she is measuring her up. She steps out of the way, allowing her into her chambers.

Ashara Dayne's eyes wander over her chambers, lingering for a moment longer on the Northern hints. She does not look disapproving, but Alys has heard what the Southerners think of her kin. Ghost must sense her discomfort for he wakes from his slumber in the corner she has arranged for him. He comes padding towards her and buries his snout in her navy skirts. 

She waits patiently for the Lady to state the purpose of her visit. Alys is aware that as a Princess she could demand that she do so right away, but she feels like a mummer in Kingslanding when she sees how gracefully Rhaenys wears it.

"I am here on the command of the Queen." Ashara says, "She has ordered me to teach you the ways of the Southern court." Alys' eyebrows jump at the admission. She had not expected that. She feels as though she is not worthy of her kindness. She is the shame her husband brought onto their family. 

Ashara appears to agree from the way her lips are curled in disdain. Alys has to remind herself that despite the many rumours in Winterfell, she is Dornish. 

"The Queen is too kind," Alys answers diplomatically. She would not be surprised if the lady agreed vocally. "I am grateful for her offer, but I do not want impose." 

Ashara Dayne shakes her head and she has a feeling that she had tried to convince the Queen of that. Alys reaches out to run her fingers through Ghost's because she does not know what to do with them. 

"The Queen's order was clear. I will be attending you until Queen Elia deems otherwise." After a pause, she adds, "Princess." Alys' title might as well have been an afterthought. The King had wedded Lyanna before the old gods, but the Faith had refused to acknowledge the marriage. It had mattered little by then for Lyanna Stark had already died. The King had legitimized and placed Alys in the line of succession to appease the North.

Alys lets her arms fall limp on her sides. She smiles helplessly, mirroring the situation Ashara Dayne is in. If Queen Elia insists, Alys will do it. She does not want to insult her by refusing. She has insulted the Queen enough. 

"When do we start, Lady Dayne?"  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI I UPDATED THE CAST! Follow @crispmarshmallow to take a look and tell me what you think! (On Tumblr)


	4. the star that brought us together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Princess Alysanne makes the acquaintance of Lady Connington and finds herself in a unfortunate situation.

Alys has to restrain herself from fidgeting with the fabric of her violet skirt as she watches the King hold court. She cannot recall the complaint brought forward by the peasant that stands before the Iron Throne. It is hard to concentrate on him when she can feel the suspicious stares of the ladies and lords crawl over her skin.

She had thought that after attending court for almost the entire week, they would have tired of examining her every movement. Evidently, she was wrong.

Her eyes dart towards the woman that forced her out of bed and dragged her here. Ashara Dayne is standing behind Queen Elia, her eyes fixed on the smallfolk present. Alys feels irritation flare within at the sight of her teacher if she could be called that. She has left Alys to deal with the unwanted attention from the nobility.

Alys preferred when Ashara sat beside her and took to whispering their identities and loyalties. It was a lot to remember, but at least she had been distracted.

Aside from abandoning her this morning, Ashara Dayne has proved to be an effective teacher.

She is successful in getting Alys out of her chambers; that is an achievement in itself.

She teaches Alys the Southern ways and puts up with her scoffing at them. Alys can not find it in herself to feel bad about it when Ashara treats the North the same way.

Lady Ashara seems to hold some twisted disdain for the North. It only serves to fuel Alys' suspicions that were stimulated by the rumours in Winterfell.

Her distaste for anything above the Neck could be chalked up as a reaction to a particular past with its lord or, Alys supposes, it could be because she is simply Dornish.

Alys likes to think she is teaching Ashara of the North as she learns of the South from her. Albeit, the two of them learn reluctantly and it does little to change their perceptions. Funnily enough, Alys believes their mutual distaste for the culture of the other is what makes their arrangement work.

"I see your handler has left you to your own devices." Alys whips her head to her right, in time to see Lady Cersei Connington seat herself beside her. She tucks a blonde curl behind her ear and flashes a smile at Alys - if one could call it a smile. Lady Cersei looks like a proud lioness sizing up her prey. Looking at her, complete with the sneer, Alys feels as though she is staring at a female Ser Jaime.

Alys' lips stretch into the sweetest smile that she can muster.  _Handler_ . She scowls in indignation. "I have no handler, Lady Connington." She chooses to use the title Cersei had been bestowed upon her marriage. Ashara has told her that it is a loveless and childless union - full of distrust and disdain. "If you speak of Lady Ashara, she is attending to the Queen."

Cersei laughs, but Alys can see her emerald eyes narrow. "Lady Cersei will do fine, Princess." Alys inclines her head in acknowledgement. Her marriage has been one of convenience; a way for the King to keep an eye on Lady Cersei and that of Tywin Lannister to secure the Stormlands. "Of course, I understand. Elia Martell must struggle without Lady Dayne."

Alys pauses for a moment, unsure of how to respond. "I believe it is that she tires of being by my side constantly." She knows little about the friendship between the Queen and Ashara.

Cersei raises an eyebrow, "Nonsense." She says, waving the suggestion away. "I'm sure you are a wonderful company. It must be you that must tire of Ashara Dayne hounding you every hour of the day." Alys' smile tightens but does not dispute the accusation for it does have some truth in it.

Alys' eyes return to the dais, wondering why the Lady Cersei saw fit to join her. She spies Tywin Lannister standing beside the Throne as befits the Hand of the King, his cold hard gaze fixed on the petitioner before him. Did he put her up to it? She doubts it is her husband that stands next to him.

”Are you fond of the Lady Ashara?"

Alys' eyebrows furrow in confusion. She wouldn't go as far as to say that she is fond of the Dornish woman, but it would be improper to admit that. "She has been nothing but kind." She answers diplomatically.

"I'm sure," Cersei says, smiling sharply. "Let me give you a word of advice, Princess Alysanne." Alys feels her skin crawl once more, she does not know if she should stop her from doing so. Lannisters are not to be trusted, yet, she has found Jaime to be amicable enough.

"Do not trust Lady Ashara or any that the Queen sends."

Her Uncle has always stated that Alys is too curious for her own good. She finds herself pursuing the statement that borders treasonous. "Why?"

Lady Cersei leans closer to her, "Ashara Dayne has told you of all our loyalties. What has she told you of her own?"

"The Targaryens." It is an easy answer, though, it has never been stated out loud. Who else would she support?

"Is that what she told you, Princess?" Cersei chuckles, "Ashara Dayne is loyal to the Queen.”

"The Queen to a Targaryen King."

"My child," Alys scowls at the condescending title, "It has been years since Elia Martell has been loyal to the King." It means very little sense, Aly decides, her position and that of her children depend on Rhaegar Targaryen. "She is loyal to Dorne and to her children."

"You are not one of hers."

Alys' eyes meet that of Cersei. She feels her stomach sink in realization. It is not the King she should be worried about. She wonders if Ashara Dayne would work her towards her downfall. After all, she is the daughter of the woman the King left Elia Martell for.

"Why are you telling me this?" There is no reason for Cersei to help her.

Cersei turns away from her and she fixes her eyes on someone on the dais, a smirk making its way on her face. "Think of it as a welcoming gift, child."

Alys traces the source of Cersei's amusement. She freezes when she realizes that it is Queen Elia. She stares at the pair of them with an expression that Alys can not and does not want to read.

* * *

Ashara is relentless after that conversation with Lady Cersei, she forces Alys to wear the colours of House Targaryen. She runs Alys into Aegon and Rhaenys a lot more than usual which results in many awkward conversations.

Alys sees the little things that Ashara does for the Queen. She tries to demonstrate a relationship between Alys and her siblings before the courtiers, to dispel any rumours of discord. 

She vehemently warns Alys off Lady Cersei, though, she has done nothing, but approach her once that time. 

Lady Dayne’s constant hounding drives Alys so mad that she takes refuge in the godswood with Ghost for Ashara loathes it. 

Alys tries to pray, kneeling on the ground, her hands folded. She has been raised on the Old Gods, but she does know the traditions carried out by the Seven.

There was a time when Alys was truly a devotee, she still considers herself one. Now, however, it is harder to concentrate, to have conviction in what she asks for. She has asked and asked, and anything rarely comes out of it. She wants to pray, but her heart is never into it. The godswoods has become little more than a sanctuary from Ashara Dayne and the court.

As she exits, Ghost runs past her. Alys takes her time brushing her skirts. She walks out and is greeted with the sight of Ghost being cuddled by a boy that she does not recognize.

Ghost seems to enjoy the attention of the stranger so Alys waits a few moments before she clears her throat.

The boy startles, whipping his eyes to hers. His violet eyes, that look familiar, widen at the sight of Alys. He scrambles to get off the ground, straightening his tunic and blonde hair in a hurry.

”Princess Alysanne.” He bows deeply to her, a hint of redness in his tanned cheeks.

She finds it adorable, her lips stretch into a smile. He hasn't let go of Ghost, his hand still resting on his back.

”I’m afraid we’ve never met, my lord.” She says to him kindly. She can see him fidgeting, she wonders momentarily if she looks so intimidating.

”Oh.” He releases Ghost and wipes his hands on his lilac tunic, before taking her hand into his. He raises it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. ”Lord Edric Dayne at your service, Princess.”

Ah, that is why she has seen his eyes before. She giggles at the display by the boy. He certainly will know his way around ladies when he gets older. She drops into a curtsey, flashing him a bright smile.

“Charmed, Lord Dayne.” She has to stop herself from laughing at the way he reddens. He stares at her with wide adorable eyes.

He withdraws his hand, massaging his neck. “Ned will do fine, Princess. It is what everyone calls me.” He peers at her nervously, a bit starstruck.

She smiles kindly at him, ”Well then, Ned, you must call me Alys.” He gapes at her request. She is surprised herself. No one has called her that since her arrival in Kingslanding.

She looks down at Ghost pawing Ned’s legs. “He seems to like you.”

“Is that unusual?”

She shrugs at she kneels down brushing her fingers through his white fur, “I suppose. He hasn’t been friendly with many since our arrival.”

Ned joins her on the ground. “What does he eat?” He asks curiously.

She peers at him. She is surprised by his curiosity. Edric Dayne is Dornish and the nephew of Ashara Dayne. She supposes that means little, after all, Ashara and her brother, Arthur, are not on the best terms from what Alys has seen.

“I have raw meat brought to him,” She explains, almost sadly, “there isn’t much of an opportunity for Ghost to hunt these days.”

“Ghost is his name?”

“Yes. He is so quiet and, well, white.” She laughs at the way he beams excitedly. She doesn’t think she has laughed this much since she came to Kingslanding.

He spends the next minutes asking Alys questions about Ghost, and she answers eagerly. It is such a breath of fresh air from the nagging from Ashara and the interrogation of the courtiers.

They are interrupted by loud footsteps approaching them. “Ned!”

Ned and Alys look up to find Prince Aegon standing over, regarding them with shock and his hands tied behind his back. As they rise to their feet, Aegon looks between the two of them suspiciously.

“We were supposed be out hunting by now.” He says to Ned, running a hand through his hair, “What have you been doing?” He throws her a quick smile. Her relationship with her siblings can be summed up to that - tight smiles and curt nods.

Alys steps back, ready to excuse herself and Ghost. She opens her mouth to speak, but Ned jumps into an explanation.

“I ran into Ghost, Your Highness.” Aegon raises an eyebrow and gestures for him to follow him. Ned glances at him and back at Alys. He looks thoughtful for a moment and bursts out to her, “Do you want to join us?”

Alys parts her lips in surprise. Aegon doesn’t look much different.

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t be much use on a hunt, Ned.”

Ned shakes his head, loathe to part with her and Ghost so quick. “Ghost would be, and he’d finally find some worthy prey.” She can see Ghost enjoying that. She just doesn’t want to intrude on the Prince’s hunting trip.

“Please, Alys.” Aegon’s eyebrows jump under the fringes of his dark hair at the name. He circumvents her, stopping to stand behind her. He leans in, his warm breathe tickling her ear.

“Say yes.” His smile evident in his tone, “I’d hate to break Ned’s heart so young.” He made no effort to lower his voice causing Ned to blush. Young Dayne did not even refute the claim.

Alys says hesitantly, “I suppose I can join, that is if the Prince is in agreement.” 

Aegon straightens his spine and flashes a wide grin at Ned, turning the poor boy even redder. “Oh, he is in agreement.”

* * *

She rides between Ned and Aegon. The former speaking of one thing or the other. Ned Dayne is lively boy, his enthusiasm reminds her of Arya.

Aegon remains silent most the time, but Alys can sense his presence to her right. He does, however, interject to correct some detail in the anecdotes Ned tells her. 

Ghost has padded out of her sights , probably enjoying the wild outdoors.  She knows the Kingsguard trail behind them at a distance.

“What have you done to him?” He whispers to her as Ned launches into a description of the jungles in Dorne. 

Alys laughs, though, her chest clutches nervously. “I have no idea.” Did Aegon think she seduced the heir of House Dayne? 

“I haven’t seen him this taken with a woman before.” Aegon is grinning as he says this, something relaxes in Alys at that. 

She throws her long hair off her shoulder, “Well, that is hardly a surprise.” She flashes the Prince a bright smile, her eyes twinkling, before turning her attention back to Ned.

Once they catch sight of prey, Aegon hands her a bow and arrow. She accepts, baffled.

“Let’s put your skills to test.” 

She rises to the challenge and does take down the boar that hides behind the bushes in face of her weapon. Aegon claps his hands and Ned looks at her in awe. 

“Where did you learn that?”

Alys shrugs in response. It had taken her and Arya years to perfect the art.

Ned asks curiously, “Do you know sword-fighting too?”

Alys hands the bow to Aegon as she shakes her head. “I’m afraid not.”

Ned is silent as Aegon aims for a bird that is perched on a branch of a tall tree. He releases the arrow and does not miss. 

“I could teach you.” Ned says quietly, almost hopefully. Alys freezes. She is afraid this is getting out of hand.

Aegon is the one who answers, “You are a long way from taking a student of your own, Ned.” 

Ned deflates and Alys feels bad for him. It is for the best. Taking sword lessons is the last thing she needs right now. She would only scandalize the court even further.

They ride back in relative silence. Ser Oswald stays back to have their game transported back to the Red Keep. As they dismount their horses, Ned speaks up once more. 

“Aegon could teach you.” She stares into his wide, pleading eyes. “He is one of the best.” 

She glances at Aegon who looks only amused at her predicament. She opens her mouth to refuse. 

“I could.” Aegon interrupts cheerfully. She wants to hit him over the head for encouraging Ned. Ashara is likely to have her head when she hears of it. 

“I don’t think that is a good idea.” 

She didn’t even want to learn how to fight with a sword. 

“I do.” He leans forward. Alys notes that he has a habit of invading her personal space. “Give the court something to gossip about, Princess.”

“Something that is _worth_ it.” 

He grins at her as he and Ned turns on their heels. “I’ll have Ned tell you when we start.” He says over his shoulder. Ned nods eagerly.

The Prince does not wait for her opinion, leaving before she can get in a single word.

“I didn’t say yes.” She mutters to herself, indignant, as she walks in the opposite direction.

She has no intention of saying yes. 


	5. daughters of sinners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got a chapter out, not exactly happy with it. Hope you enjoy it though.

Her intentions mean very little in the end. 

There is a reason for which Alys respects Lady Ashara’s ability in waking her up in the morning. Alys is a terror in the morning, lashing out to any who dare disturb her slumber. 

So when she wakes to cool water falling into her face, Alys thinks Ashara has grown too confident in her own skills. The Dornish Lady has never dared to resort to such unsavory techniques to wake her, and the fact that she developed the nerve to do so infuriates Alys. She has given Ashara Dayne far too much leeway out of respect for the Queen and whatever possible feelings Lady Dayne might have had for Ned Stark. Yet, Alys is a Princess and can only put up with so much discontempt. 

Alys pushes the covers off her body, springing off her bed with the dark thought of unleashing Ghost on Ashara lurking in the back of her mind. She is sure that any who looked into her eyes would see the flames dancing in her pupils. She opens her mouth, her rage begging for an outlet. 

She stops herself from spewing a string of words that would not fit a Princess when she notices that the woman before her is  _ not  _ Ashara Dayne.

“Rhaenys?” Alys’ voice is hoarse from sleep. She rubs her eyes in confusion, Rhaenys has no reason to be in her chambers this early in the morning. 

Rhaenys stands before her, dressed and far too perfect for an hour before the Sun has fully risen. Alys spies her water jug in her hands, she fights the urge to burst at the reminder of the manner in which she was awoken. 

Rhaenys sets the jug down, and something relaxes in Alys. Her sister walks towards her and grabs her by the shoulders, startling Alys. She shoots her a sweet smile. 

“Good morning, Alysanne.” She steers her towards the wash basin, and Alys’ mind is still hazy from her sleep that she can not resist. “Wash up, and change into the outfit that I’ve laid out for you.” 

Alys obeys the first command, for no reason other than that she hates the taste in her mouth in the morning. However, she does protest when she catches sight of the outfit Rhaenys has set out for her. 

Rhaenys tries to look as innocent as possible when she presents it to Alys. It is a pair of brown breeches and a tan tunic. 

There can only be one explanation for them.

“I remember refusing Aegon’s offer.” Alys points out tiredly as she considers the amount of sleep she has lost for this ill-fated endeavor. 

Rhaenys sighs as she shoves the clothes gently into Alys’ hands. “According to Aegon, you did not refuse.” Alys begins to protest, but Rhaenys cuts her off. “You can argue the technicalities with him, Alysanne.” 

Alys stares at the clothes for a moment and then at Rhaenys who nods at her encouragingly. She considers changing into a gown and paying Aegon a visit on the sparring grounds to give him a piece of her mind, but she is tempted by the appeal of the clothes she has at hand. Breeches and tunics are far comfier, and she is too lazy to go through the hassle of dressing up.

She settles for  _ politely  _ refusing Aegon’s offer in breeches. And makes that clear to Rhaenys. 

Once she finishes changing, Rhaenys pushes her into the chair before her vanity and starts brushing through Alys’ hair. Rhaenys doesn’t say anything, simply pulling Alys’ dark locks into an intricate braid. It reminds Alys of how Sansa used to do her hair, and it makes her feel warm. She doesn’t ask anything, she is scared that it will ruin whatever has transpired between the two. 

As Rhaenys completes her work, Alys catches a hint of a smile on her face. 

Outside her chambers, the corridors of the Maidenvault are empty save from the guards this early. Rhaenys leads Alys to the sparring grounds that are reserved for members of House Targaryen. Ser Lewyn and Ser Gerold stand at the entrance, letting them in, not surprised at Alys’ or Rhaenys’ appearance. 

Aegon is slouched against a bench, resting his head on the hilt of his sword, while Ned practices his footwork a few yards away. Both of them look up, and break into wide grins when they catch sight of the Princesses’ entry.

Aegon rises with far too much flourish than necessary. “Rhaenys! You succeeded!” 

Rhaenys bows mockingly, “I barely escaped with my life, my Prince.” Alys scowls from beside her. That is a bit of an exaggeration. Wasn’t it? 

Ned materializes in front of her, jumping with excitement. “You came!” He looks behind her, “Did you bring Ghost?” He doesn’t wait for her answer as he deflates when he sees no massive white direwolf tailing her. 

“We had a deal, Aegon.” Alys hears Rhaenys tell her brother, and she glances at the pair. Aegon nods absentmindedly as he turns to Alys, “I know. I know.”

Rhaenys fixes him with a stern stare before nodding and beginning to make an exit. She smiles at Ned and winks at Alys, “I’ll be off then.” Alys is confused by Rhaenys’ behavior towards her. It is far too familiar for two people who have spent less than an hour combined in each other’s company. 

Alys’ gaze follows Rhaenys as she leaves. “What deal?” She asks Aegon before he can get a word in.

He shrugs, “I promised her that I would help convince Father to let Dany have her dragon eggs back when she returns from Dragonstone.” He continues when he sees Alys raise her eyebrows in question. “Dany has been  _ studying  _ them, Rhaenys joins her on occasions, but Viserys caught them edging a bit too close to the fire so Father had them confiscated.” 

Alys wonders for what reason Daenerys and Rhaenys are playing with fire and dragon eggs for. Dragons have been extinct for centuries, and would likely stay that way. “What do they hope to accomplish?” 

“I can’t tell.” Aegon says, “truthfully, I think it is in vain. Yet, a deal is a deal, so I will speak to Father.” 

“Do you think the King will agree?,” Alys sees Aegon purse his lips at her formal address of Rhaegar Targaryen. 

“Yes, as I will ask him to release them into  _ my _ care so that they may study them under  _ my _ supervision.” He answers nonchalantly, and Alys believes him for she does not know how much influence Prince Aegon holds with the King or in court. 

Their conversation is interrupted by Ned holding up a practice sword for her to take. She smiles at him kindly as she gently pushes it away. 

“I’m not going to need that, Ned.” She informs him. “I’m not here to practice. I’m here to tell you  _ and _ the Prince that I’ll be refusing your  _ kind _ offer.” 

Ned’s face falls and Alys doesn’t know why she feels guilty about that. She looks away from Ned’s crestfallen face to see Aegon cross his arms over his chest, obviously unimpressed by her words. She suppresses a scowl, it is far too early in the morning for this. 

“Why is the Princess refusing?” 

Alys wonders if she should truly stay polite. She does not have the energy to have a battle of the wits with the Crown Prince. Yet, Alys has managed to keep her rage and dark thoughts locked up for so long, and today would not be the day they are set free. No matter how tempting it may seem.

She plasters a sugary smile on her face as she clasps her hands behind her back. “Because she has no desire to learn the art of sword-fighting.” 

“You haven’t even given it a try before.” Ned says sullenly. 

“I don’t need to.” 

Aegon asks, “You’ve never had the desire to learn?” Alys bites her lips at the question. Truthfully, she has had the desire to do so. She grew up with Arya and Robb by her side. Both had always been fascinated by the art, so she had naturally developed an interest. She used to watch Robb spar with Theon and accompanied Arya to the Broken Tower so that she could practice out of Aunt Catelyn’s sight. 

Alys, however, knows her responsibilities and duties, of which none require a sword in her hand. She fears what the court will think if they spy a sword between her fingers. Will they see Lyanna Stark? 

“No.” She lies. Aegon seems to catch it. He moves closer to her, taking the practice sword from Ned and wrapping her fingers around the hilt. She stares at it, unsure of what she truly wants. 

“Try it today.” He suggests, pushing his dark hair out of his eyes. “Even Rhaenys and Dany have learned some sort of combat skills.” Alys contemplates refusing, but the way Aegon is looking at her with those cautious eyes, and Ned peering at the two of them so hopeful, changes her answer. 

Not to mention, the kindling desire within herself to give it a try. 

“Fine.” She lets out with an exaggerated sigh. 

However, whatever desire Alys had possessed quickly disappears as she begins her lessons. Aegon starts by asking her to do her best in disarming him, to understand her weak and strong points. 

Disarming Aegon turned out to be a far more difficult task than Alys had anticipated, and he has her falling on her back more times than she can count. Ned cheers for Alys on the sidelines, shouting encouragement, but they are of little use when Aegon blocks another of her blows. 

The Sun rises by the time Aegon asks her to stop attacking him, and he tosses his practice sword to Ned. 

“We’ll end with that today.” 

Alys, who had been struggling to catch her breath on the bench, looks up, burning a whole into his head. “We’ll end with that forever.” She has accomplished nothing in the hour that she had spent - other than sore muscles and a few bruises here and there. 

Aegon doesn’t even glance at her as he downs the contents of his water skin. His indifference when it comes to almost everything irritates Alys to no end. Ned, however, has the decency of offering her a water skin. She accepts readily, gulping down the contents instantly. She shoots Ned a smile of gratitude, and to her amusement, he turns red. 

She is joined on the bench by Aegon. He shakes his head at Alys’ words. “A pity if that is so.” She is surprised that he let it go so easily after his persistence earlier. “However,” She smiles to herself. There it is. “Do all Northerners give up so easily?” 

Alys inhales a gust of air, and closes her eyes shut as she clutches the edge of the bench tightly. She is far from ignorant on what Aegon seeks to accomplish with those words. She tries to come up with a good retort, however, she is unsuccessful. 

“I’m aware of what you are trying to do, your highness.” 

Aegon turns to her, grinning. “Good. I was hoping you would be.” He sits back, watching Ned practice his own stances as they talk. “For all the North likes to boast of their perseverance, I see none of it in you.” 

Alys refuses to open her eyes, the Prince seeks to bruise her pride and coax her into promising another session. It is a trap, a very effective trap. 

Aegon sighs at her lack of response, and Alys cracks her eyes open to find him crossing his arms around his chest. “Perhaps, you are more of a Southerner than you would like to admit.” 

Indignation flares within Alys at accusation.  _ Southerner?  _ She scoffs inwardly. She refuses to be aligned with the frivolous bastards that despise her for no sin that is her own. All rationale leaves Alys as she gives in once more. 

“Must we do these sessions so early in the morning?” 

Aegon grins at her, his lilac eyes twinkling, in reply. 

* * *

After a long warm bath that slightly eases the soreness in her muscles, she sits before the vanity, letting her handmaiden attend to her. She relaxes as she runs her fingers through her damp hair. 

Alys takes the opportunity to study her handmaiden, who is silent, never uttering a word. She communicates with stiff smiles and deep bows, always acting as though she is walking on eggshells. 

Alys’ mind goes to Lady Cersei’s words, of how Queen Elia and Ashara do not have her best interests in heart. She wonders if the handmaiden is a spy for the Queen. However, when she thinks about it, this handmaiden has been serving her far before Lady Ashara approached her. 

She opens her mouth to address her when she recalls with embarrassment that she has never bothered to learn the handmaiden’s name. 

Alys clears her throat. “I never asked, but would you tell me your name?” 

The woman looks up at her in surprise, her chocolate brown eyes blinking at her for a moment. Alys offers a kind smile. 

“Mya.” She says, almost stiffly. “Mya Stone.” 

Alys perks up in interest. “You hail from the Vale?” Her Uncle had been fostered there, from which he carries only fond memories. Sometimes, he regaled tales from his youth under Jon Arryn.

Mya looks away as she answers. “Yes, Princess.” She immediately returns to her task of removing the knots in Alys’ hair. 

Alys does not stop her questioning. “What brings a pretty woman as you to Kingslanding, Mya?” She appears to be slightly older than Alys. Despite her circumstances of birth, Mya stood out with her chestnut curls and chocolate eyes. She would not find it particularly difficult to find a husband. 

Mya meets Alys’ eyes in the vanity, betraying no emotion - it unsettles Alys. “I am here on the command of the King.” 

Alys gapes at her, trying to find why the King would order a girl as young as Mya to come to the Red Keep from the Vale. Unintentionally, her mind strays to the notion that Mya might be the King’s mistress. She breaks eye contact at the thought. Mya is young, but Alys’ mother had been even younger. Her stomach curdles in discomfort and disgust. 

She stares at her fingers. “Why?” It comes out quieter, weaker, than she would have hoped. She fears the answer, further proof that the King is the terrible person she has painted in her mind. 

“As a deterrent, my Princess.” Mya explains, Alys can sense her studying her in the mirror. “In hopes that the threat of my wellbeing will keep my father in check.” 

“Your father?” 

“The traitor, Robert Baratheon.” 

Ah. That would make explain it aptly. 

Alys has never been able to sort her thoughts regarding Robert Baratheon or the Rebellion that he had led. She is a Targaryen, yet, she can not blame the rebels for their actions. Particularly when one of them was her Uncle. Ned insists that Robert had loved her mother, no matter how misguided those feelings may have been. However, she knows her mother never returned those feelings. 

Alys does not know where her loyalties lie, she has never known.

Mya doesn’t say anymore, and Alys doesn’t either. She just stares at the handmaiden at work. She wonders how it is to call her father a traitor - she doesn’t know what type of father Robert Baratheon may have been, but she knows that Mya is not calling him a traitor because he was a bad one. 

Alys suffers enough for the sin of being Lyanna Stark’s daughter. She wonders how it must be for Mya Stone, the daughter of the Rebel leader, to live in amongst those her father sought to overthrow. 

Alys does not think she has a right to ask. She is the daughter of the woman who ran away from Mya’s father, indirectly resulting in his exile. She does not think her words of comfort would be of any help.

So that night she settles by taking Mya along with her on a walk through the godswoods. She asks her to join her to sit on the ground. Mya, ever the obedient, does not refuse and that serves Alys perfectly. 

Alys sits before the chopped heart tree, thinking of nothing in particular. She doesn’t wake Mya up for a long time after the Vale woman dozes off, her head tucked into her chest. 

She allows Mya Stone enjoy the lull and peace offered by the godswood with her, away from the court and gossip. 

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AUTHOR’S NOTE

Okay. So I know this isn’t an update, and I am truly sorry for that. The thing is I am kinda discontinuing this story. I just don’t feel comfortable writing this story anymore, particularly because the lead couple are brother and sister. It just doesn’t sit well with me anymore. I wish it wasn’t true, but it is. It stops me from writing whenever I open Google Docs even though I have everything planned. So I give you my most sincere apologies for leaving this unfinished. 

If you feel as though you lack closure for this fic, I am willing to give you a rough outline of what I had planned for this story. Tell me in the comments. If you want an outline, I’m willing to put one together. 

Thank you for all your love and support. Maybe, I’ll come back and start another GOT fic with a fem!Jon Snow and Aegon. Perhaps, fem!Jon can be the child Ned and Ashara. I’d be more comfortable writing that.

Tell me what you think!

Again, Thank You!

**Author's Note:**

> Follow 'crispmarshmallow' on Tumblr for more updates on this story and more. Also, I've posted the casting I imagined for this. SUBCRIBE AND REVIEW!
> 
> I live on feedback!


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